New Challenge: Potluck Bingo
Sit down to a delicious selection of prompts served on bingo boards, created by the SWG community.
Ecthelion woke in his bed and stretched languidly. What a luxury to wake in a warm, soft bed and to know that he could stay in it as long as he wanted to. If he liked, he could even have breakfast brought to his bed. Ecthelion laughed softly, it felt absurd. And he had no time to lie around anyway. He wanted to go to the camp and see how his people fared. He hoped that they would soon find houses for themselves, their own or those of their relatives who’d stayed, or newly built ones. Ecthelion sat up and reached for his clothes.
His mother sat at breakfast when he came down and smiled at him.
“Did you have a good night?”, she asked.
“The best since a long time”, Ecthelion answered, he had slept like a stone.
He sat and dug into his breakfast, reaching for the cheese muffins, his favourite.
“Do you think you could make an appointment for me with our seamstress? Nothing special, but my wardrobe is a little limited at the moment”, he said after he’d eaten to his heart’s content and leaned back. He only had a few donated pieces of clothing and nothing fit properly. There were more important things, but he knew that he would be expected by his peers to act in a certain way. He needed to meet them eye to eye if he wanted to help his people. Nivwen smiled.
“I didn’t want to offend you, but I think that’s a good idea. I’ll send for her, will you be here today?”
Ecthelion shook his head. “I have to check on my people, make sure they settled in safely.”
Nivwen lifted her eyebrows. “Your people?”
“Angband-Elves, my people, I’m one of them. And they chose me to be their leader. I have responsibility for them, amme, do you understand?”
“Of course I understand, Ehtele. You’ve grown up.” Ecthelion felt himself blush. “Can I help in any way? If you need clothes, they can’t be better off.”
“That’s true. The king promised to help, but...”
“Arafinwe can’t do everything alone.” Nivwen rubbed her hands. “Tell me what they need the most and I’ll talk to some friends. I’m sure we can organise something to help them.”
Ecthelion kissed her cheek. “You are the best, amme.”
His mother loved to spend her time painting, but she was good at organising and she knew everyone of influence in Tirion. He could use her help.
“I’ll be on my way now. Have a nice day.”
“You too, yonya. Will you be home for dinner?”
“Of course.” He had missed her so much, he wanted to spend as much time with her as his duties allowed.
The walk through Tirion was relaxing. He had longed for his home town and the memories of many happy hours he had spent here sang inside him. Ecthelion caught himself whistling as he walked down the hill, once everything had settled down a bit, he would buy a new flute, but that needed more time than he had now.
Many houses looked like they’d been empty for too long, but a hustle and bustle was all about, the homecomers made themselves at home once more. Ecthelion waved at Tarilanya who stood on her balcony, shaking out a feather duster, her hair was held back with a scarf.
“Good morning!”, he called up to her.
“Morning?” Tarilanya laughed. “Do you know what time it is? I’ve been up for hours fighting dust bunnies. Come in for a moment, the door is open.”
Ecthelion stepped into the hallway and was surprised to hear voices. Tarilanya came down the stairs and embraced him.
“Do you have visitors?”, he asked, not sure if he wanted to meet anyone.
“Housemates”, Tarilanya answered and led him into the back room, that might have been a sitting room once.
A group of women was cleaning the grimy windows talking and laughing.
“The house is so big, there’s no reason for people sleeping in tents if I have room enough.” Her voice wavered a bit at the end, her whole family had died in Gondolin.
Ecthelion squeezed her shoulder wordlessly.
“Anyway. They help me clean up and the house is in dire need of it, I can tell you. It happened all so quickly, back then...” She shook her head. “The wine racks didn’t survive the centuries, I’m afraid. But at the moment I don’t have goods to sale, anyway.”
“We have to change that immediately”, he answered. “Or I’ll have nothing to drink.” She’d been his wine deliverer in Gondolin.
“Oh, we can’t have that.” Tarilanya laughed. “Have you been to the camp, yet?”
“I’m on my way to it. Is there something you want to talk to me about? Or you?” Ecthelion turned to the other women. “I want everyone to know that you can approach me with any matter and I’ll try to help.”
Tarilanya smiled at him. “That’s nice of you, Ecthelion. I’ll tell everyone who asks. Maybe you could remind the king that food is not everything. I know he has other things to worry about, but you said, he wants to help us. I can’t build a new business from nothing and of course I’d pay back my debts, but a loan would be more than welcome.”
“I’ll talk to him next time I see him and to some other people who might be able to loan money. I think most of us would like to stand on our own feet as soon as possible again. See you soon, Tarilanya, you know where to find me, if you have any difficulties.”
When he reached the camp it was already lunch time, he stopped at a few fires and spoke a few words with them. Many wanted to know what to expect now that they’d reached Aman. They were free again and although most baulked to outright ask for anything, the insecurity about their future was at the front of their minds.
Ecthelion tried to reassure them as well as he could, he had a meeting with Finarfin the next day and would address some of their worries and he hoped his mother would be able to get them clothes.
“They say I have to prove that I’m my parent’s son to be allowed to move into the house, but how should I do that?”, one elf told him close to tears. “Do they expect me to be able to produce a birth certificate?”
“You need witnesses”, Ecthelion said. “People who’ll guarantee that you are who you say you are. Three, if you can find as many. There must be someone who knew your parents and you.”
“Not many survived the ruin of Nargothrond”, the elf whispered. “I’m not sure if anyone who knew me from there survived Angband.”
“But that can be found out.” Ecthelion wouldn’t give up that easily. “Come, I know someone who might be able to help you.”
He had given Gil the lists of names of the elves who had come with them and he knew that his friend had started to gather more information about each of them. Gil sat in front of his tent, enjoying the sun, and smiled at them.
“Good afternoon, Ecthelion.”
“Good afternoon, my friend. Maybe you can help Celairae here to find people who can confirm who his parents were so he can have their house. I know you asked around about where they came from.”
Gil nodded. “I’ve not met everyone, but yes, of course we can look at the lists. Where are you from?”
“Nargothrond”, Celairae answered and looked gratefully at Ecthelion.
“And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll find another way”, Ecthelion told him. “I’ll be in camp for a while longer. Gil, I’ll come back later, I want to talk about a few things.”
He walked on to find Matil and talk about houses.
Ecthelion looked at the blueprints Matil had drawn. They were variant designs for houses they might build for those of them who had never lived in Aman, if Finarfin gave them the permission. He eyed Matil from the corner of his eye when the other elf took a deep breath and opened his mouth as if to speak but then stayed silent, it wasn’t the first time in the last few minutes.
“What bothers you?”, Ecthelion asked.
“I want to talk to you about the orcs”, Matil answered, not meeting his eyes. “You say you can forgive them and you made the decision to speak for them, and that is, of course, your decision, but you have to realise that not all of us are of the same mind. I can’t forgive them just like that, I told you so before.”
Ecthelion nodded. “And I heard you, but what is it, that you want? Do you want the Valar to sentence them to death?” He tried to keep all judgement from his voice, it wasn’t his place to judge Matil and he wanted him to continue speaking.
“No.” Matil shook his head decisively. “I thought about it and no, I think that would be wrong. They should get a chance to prove that they are, as you say, relatives and can act accordingly. But they committed crimes against us and they should be made accountable for it, especially if the Valar decide that they should be allowed to live. And it is a matter between us and them, not the Valar or King Finarfin should be the judges.”
“That sounds a lot like you want to take law into your own hands”, Ecthelion answered frowning. “And I don’t think that is a good idea. It’s a dark place to go to.”
“Of course there have to be rules. I don’t want to pay them back in kind – I’m not a rapist! – and the people I talked with about it think like that, too, but there should be a punishment.”
Ecthelion drummed his fingers on the tabletop. He could understand Matil’s point of view although he didn’t share it.
“Are we in agreement about waiting for the Valar’s judgment before doing anything about it? It is hard enough for them to not know what their fate will be as it is.”
Matil nodded slowly. “You might be right.”
“And afterwards we’ll find a solution with them. If it is, as you say, a matter between us and them, we should seek their compliance.”
Matil cocked his head and looked surprised at him. “You really think they would consent to be punished?”
“I haven’t even touched on that with Sharû, I don’t know. But what did you want to do? Attack them?” Matil looked away embarrassed. “We didn’t really think about it. We just felt so... so helpless.”
Ecthelion closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You felt helpless because I, whom you chose to speak for you, support the orcs.” He’d made a mistake. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t hold it against you, Aeg, you do so much for us, but...”
Ecthelion nodded. “It is good that you spoke to me about it. We have to stick together, Matil. You know as well as I do that it is going to be hard for many elves to accept us, changed as we are. You already got into a brawl because of it. I don’t want us to fall out because of our different opinions. Make your minds up as to what you want from them, or how you wish them to be punished. And once the Valar made their decision, we’ll meet with Sharû and sort it out. I don’t know what the orcs are going to say to it, but I know how surprised they are that I and some others are ready to put in a good word for them.”
“So you’ll support us? Even though you think not like us?”
“I want us all to be happy and I hope, we’ll find a compromise that is going to benefit everyone.” Ecthelion put his hand on Matil’s shoulder. “You made me your leader and I know what a responsibility that is. I have a sympathetic ear for everyone and I will do what I can to help, even if I think differently. No one should be afraid to come to me. Please tell that to the people you spoke with. I’m not against you just because I feel different about the matter.”
Matil smiled relieved. “I feared you would judge us for it. I thought, you would order us to give up our revenge. I’m glad that it is different.”
“You made me your leader”, Ecthelion repeated. “I speak for us all when I talk to the King or the Valar, but I’m not your lord, I can’t order you to do anything.”
“You could try and most of us wouldn’t fight it, I think. Thank you for not doing so. You lightened my heart. I’ll talk to the others and I’m sure they’ll be ready to wait. What do you think of the designs?”
Ecthelion turned back to the blueprints. “They are good and we have many craftsmen among us. Once we get a building site, it won’t take long to build them.”
“Do you really think it will be that easy?”
Ecthelion shrugged. “The king owns most of the land directly around Tirion. I’ll see what he says tomorrow.”
Later, Ecthelion was already on his way home, Celairae ran after him with a smile on his lips.
“I wanted to thank you, Lord Ecthelion”, he said breathlessly. “You were right. I found a few people who remembered my parents and it was enough for the clerks. I can move into the house. Thank you so much, my lord.”
“Just Ecthelion”, he answered. “For my people I’m simply Ecthelion. And you are welcome, I’m glad to hear it.”
It was understandable that the officials wanted to see proof, but that wouldn’t be easy in many cases. Ecthelion made a mental note to talk about that with Finarfin, too.
“Do you know what you want to do now?”
Celairae shrugged. “I was a pewterer and cups and plates are always needed. I’ll furnish a workshop as soon as I have the means to.”
Ecthelion nodded with a smile. It was nice to hear the plans of Celairae and Tarilanya and was sure that Finarfin wouldn’t abandon them.
At home some letters waited for him. Egalmoth who wanted to meet with him, a note from his mother telling him he had an appointment with the seamstress tomorrow morning and... someone had taken great care to hide their handwriting, the ungainly tengwar screamed at him that he was scum because he spoke up for the orcs.
Traitor, half-orc, slavetrash... so much hatred. Cruel wishes as to what should happen to him for it. Ecthelion gulped and crumpled the letter before throwing it into the fire. He had known there was some resistance, had expected to have to argue about it, but this... craven and despicable was all he could call it. Ecthelion realised he was shaking with anger. He wished the person who had written this were here so he could tell them what he thought about them and he felt helpless because he knew that there was no way to find them out.
He still stood in the hallway and had barely calmed down when his mother came home and hoped that she wouldn’t notice his upset, but when he saw the red blotches on her cheeks, he knew he didn’t need to worry. She was too angry. What might have happened?
“Amme, are you alright?”, he asked.
“Yes, yes I am”, she answered absentmindedly and Ecthelion threw her a sceptical look. Was it about him?
“Amme...”
She sighed. “I’m just angry with those scandal mongers. I wanted to see if we can drum up some support for your people – and I might have – but...”
“They talked about me. About us”, Ecthelion said and grimaced.
“Yes. It is unbelievable how much people are gossiping – and what ideas they get!”
“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?” Ecthelion leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. First the letter and now this, he should have known that the rumour mill was already at work.
Nivwen caressed his cheek. “Is it true that you help those orcs the Valar took to Tol Eressea?”
“Yes”, Ecthelion said firmly. “That is true and I'm not ashamed of it. Do they talk about it?”
Nivwen huffed. “That, too. I said that you are home and that your people need help and it was as if that meant I allowed them to ask the most indecent things about you!”
They had walked to the garden room while they talked and Nivwen flopped down on the couch.
“They heard about your scars and argued if you got them in the war or later in Angband!”
Ecthelion growled. The rumour that he had sustained the burns in the fight for Gondolin had already started on the march back. As if that were more heroic than the truth.
“It was in Angband, and you can tell that anyone who asks”, he snapped and took a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m not angry with you. Just with... people who believe they know what they talk about.”
“I understand that, Ehtele. Do you really want to hear more? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Better to be warned.”
“As you wish." Nivwen sighed. "I don’t like to repeat those things. They say you help the orcs because their leader is your leman! They say the slaves... well, that you had to be available for... for certain services, that you are tainted. But you are alive, that can’t be true!”
Ecthelion saw how uncomfortable she felt saying this and felt again the fear to lose her reach for his heart.
“And... if it we really had to?”, he croaked and Nivwen blanched.
“Oh, Ehtele!” She reached for his hand. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry! I didn’t want to reopen wounds. And I certainly don’t think you tainted, but... how? It’s written down...”
Ecthelion looked away. “Not all that is written down is true, I guess. Some... some people don’t survive being raped, but many of us did. And now that it is over, we are scorned by our own kin.”
Nivwen caressed his cheek, her eyes full of tears. “That’s why you thought I’d want you gone if I knew?”, she said gently. “I don’t. I love you. Should I wish you dead? I’m sorry this happened to you, I can’t imagine how horrible it was, but I can’t scorn you. Can you tell me, why you help the orcs if they did something so vile to you?”, she asked and Ecthelion heard that she wouldn’t judge him regardless of his answer. It was calming. ‘I’ll always love you.’ She’d meant it.
“They were ordered to kill us and helped us to gain our freedom instead. Without them none of us would have survived”, he said what he’d said so often already. “They did the right thing and they deserve a second chance because of it. They hurt us and that was wrong, but... that was all they knew.”
He didn’t confess to her that while he had certainly never raped anyone, he knew the feeling of being sure to be entitled to receive something for favour. It might not be exactly the same, but he hadn’t been a very good person.
“They grew up in the belief that it is their right to treat slaves like this. I want to believe that they can be different if we let them and many of my people think so, too.”
“And you don’t want revenge?”
Ecthelion shook his head. He had barely had time to think about himself since they’d regained their freedom, but there was no hatred for the orcs in his heart. “I don’t.” He remembered his discussion with Matil and he really understood where he was coming from, but: “I want to look forward, not back.” And he didn't need revenge to do that.